


The Southern Mistake

by keylimepie



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - The French Mistake, Confusion, Demons Are Assholes, Dimension Travel, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Protective Castiel, Relationship Discussions, Secret Castiel/Dean Winchester, Secret Relationship, Spell Failure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-12-06 11:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepie/pseuds/keylimepie
Summary: Richard is just on his way home from work. Team Free Will is trying to revive a long-dead archangel. Something goes very wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments feed my soul!

Rich looked down at his phone as it made the little ping indicating that his Uber was arriving. He stepped out into the hot California sun, bag in hand, and waited to jump into the correct car as it pulled up at the curb of the airport terminal. 

“Heading home?” the driver asked. 

“Yep. Long weekend away, for work. Glad to get back to the fam now.” It was early Monday morning. Rich was hoping that he’d catch Jaci and the kids before they scurried off for school and work. Then he’d grab a nap and be fresh and ready for some quality time by afternoon. 

Rich stepped out of the car in front of his house and shouldered his bag, walking briskly toward the front door. Jaci’s car was still in the driveway, he noticed with a grin. 

Suddenly, there was a rumbling and the ground shook. He’d gotten used to the occasional earthquakes, having spent his adult life in California, but it still took him by surprise. He continued walking uncertainly toward the house, hoping that it would be a small one. 

It was a little weird, he thought, that the air seemed to shimmer and it almost looked like he was looking at the house through water. Earthquakes weren’t usually like this. Suddenly his vision distorted and he wondered if he was having some kind of medical crisis. Horrified at the thought that his wife and kids might find him keeled over, he dropped his bag and fumbled for his phone to call for help. As he pulled it from his pocket, everything around him shuddered and went dark. 

As quickly as it came, it cleared up. Rich stood up from where he crouched on the ground. His house should have been right in front of him, but he just saw a damp, cold looking stone wall. In fact, the air around him felt pretty clammy; gone was the hot, hot southern California day. It was dark, lit only by candles, and a dingy slate floor was beneath his feet. 

“Where am I?” he asked groggily, reaching into his pocket for his phone, but of course he’d dropped it in the driveway during the earthquake. 

“Brother!” exclaimed a gravelly voice behind him. Rich turned as footsteps approached. It was Misha, and he was in costume. 

“What am I doing on set?” Rich asked in confusion. He pressed the heel of his hand to his temple. “I have a wicked headache, but I don’t usually … lose time like … I was on my way home, I’d just gotten home,” he continued babbling to a very puzzled looking Misha. “I don’t even remember getting a script!” He turned to Jared and Jensen, who were standing behind a wooden table messing around with prop spell ingredients. Then he turned a bit more and realized that he didn’t see the edge of the set anywhere. Or the cameras, or any of the crew. “Are we on location? Was I-” 

“Cas, are you sure this is really Gabriel? Must be just his vessel,” Jensen said, scowling at him like Dean would. 

“Guys, come on, this isn’t funny,” Rich protested. “I really don’t feel right, I-” He walked over to the table and leaned on it heavily, his palms steadied by the solid wood. “I was- Okay, so what’s the scene here?” 

Misha frowned. “It can be disorienting, I suppose, but I’m sure this is not just the vessel. He was thousands of years old and wouldn’t even speak English. Gabriel, we were able to bring you back with some spellwork that the Men of Letters had in their library, which Sam happened upon. And he also, as it turned out, had some of your Grace. 

Jared blushed. “Remember- remember the feather? I wish you had told me that it was a key to bringing you back; I would have done it a long time ago. I’m sorry.” 

Jensen snorted. “Yeah well we didn’t have the spell until recently anyway, Romeo.” Jared’s cheeks turned even more scarlet and he looked as though he might punch Jensen. 

“Oh, are we playing up the Sabriel thing? That should be fun,” Rich said, winking at Jared. Instead of the expected teasing and bantering in return, Jared stayed right in character and looked at him with the most lovesick expression, to the point where Rich was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. “Seriously, guys,” he said, “I have no idea what’s going on.” 

Jensen and Misha exchanged a glance. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Jensen asked. 

“I was standing in my driveway, about to go inside and kiss my wife and hug my sons, and then there was an earthquake.” 

Jared stiffened. “Wife? Do you mean Sigyn? And… Fenrir, Jormugundr…?” He faltered. “Have you forgotten everything since your Loki days?” 

“Oh, ha ha. Guys, this is hysterical I’m sure. Payback for all those 'Speighteen takes' directorial spots, no doubt. You know what, I’m going to go find a cup of coffee to clear my head.” He strode toward the door, assuming he’d find craft services somewhere in the back, maybe under a tent if they were on location. 

“Gabriel, wait!” Misha exclaimed. “Don’t just-” Misha had grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and held him back from the doorway. “Can’t you sense the demons in there? Are you at full power?” 

Rich blinked. “Uhh,” he said eloquently. Maybe he should just improv along for the moment. “Sure I am. Sure. Why, aren’t you?” 

“No, my Grace has been rather damaged, and reduced,” he said sadly. “We must prepare ourselves for a fight before we go out there. When we came to this place to do this spell, we stumbled onto a nest of demons. We have no idea what they’re up to. We were able to ward ourselves in here, and thought it prudent to complete the spell before addressing that problem,” Misha was explaining. 

“Yeah, we were kinda hoping you would ‘angel-out’ at them once we got you up and kickin’” Jensen said with a grin. 

“If you’re sure you’re alright,” Jared added reaching out to put a steadying hand on his shoulder. The touch lasted a bit too long, and the gaze Jared was giving him was a bit too meaningful. Right. Definitely Sabriel subtext. “I- I have your blade. I- when we went back, I-” He choked up suddenly, tears in his eyes, and turned to retrieve the blade from the table and hold it out to Rich. 

“I’m sorry,” was all Rich could think of to say as Jared wiped his eyes. Damn, they were really laying this on thick. Almost Destiel level. Wait, was that happening now, too? Jensen had his hand on Misha’s waist and they were staring at each other. Rich was sure they were going to kiss for a moment, but then Jensen moved away. Typical. 

“Let’s do this,” Jensen said, full of Dean swagger, and they all clutched their weapons in fighting stance. Misha strode to the door and threw it open, angel blade held in front of him, Jensen close behind with a pistol and a knife. Well, if they were doing Sabriel, he should probably be protective of Sam, huh? Gabriel would totally do that. Rich strode in, his jaw set firmly, ready to face some danger in the form of extras. Jared was just behind him with the demon knife. 

There were about a dozen of the “demons” in the room. They swarmed around the group of them, and two immediately came toward him. Rich slashed at them nervously, afraid of hurting someone with no blocking choreographed ahead of time, and this prop felt pretty damn heavy. Jared was fighting behind him, back to back. Rich heard some pretty convincing screams from the extras, good for them. A few hit the floor, judging by the thuds. He glanced to the side and saw Jared slash at the arm of one of the “demons.” Blood flowed from the wound, and it was glowing. 

“Holy shit!” Rich exclaimed, just as one of the demons stabbed him in the shoulder. The whole world coalesced to the white hot pain, and he staggered backwards and collapsed into the arms of Jared- no, no. The arms of Sam Winchester. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sam caught Rich and lowered him gently to the ground while Dean and Castiel finished off the two the demons. Rich tried to focus on Sam's face instead of the pain. The initial pain had been awful, but the dull throbbing that was starting to set in was even worse. Rich felt woozy, and for a moment hoped that he would pass out and thus not have to feel it anymore. At least it seemed that the knife had missed his lung; he was breathing okay so far. 

“You’re not healing. You're human, aren't you?” Sam said, pressing the heel of his hand firmly against the wound. “We brought you back human?” Panic filled his eyes. 

“I'm human,” Rich gasped out. That seemed to be the most relevant information at the moment. Castiel crouched beside him. “So a hospital would be…” Castiel moved Sam's hand aside and placed his own there. There was a brilliant flash of light, Rich squeezed his eyes shut, and suddenly the pain was gone, only the torn shirt and blood remained to prove that it had happened. 

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Dean said, and everyone agreed. They all filed up the stone stairs. It was an old church, Rich realized when they got to the top. Scattered pews still remained, and half the stained glass windows were smashed into pieces that crunched beneath their feet on the stone floor as they hurried out. Rich glanced at the broken wooden sign as they emerged. “Church of Saint Gabriel” it read in gilded letters. Of course. They must have thought that would help focus the spell or something like that. 

Parked in front of the church was the sleek black Impala. Dean threw the trunk open and tossed the bags inside. Rich reached in to lay the angel blade in with the other items. He was a little freaked out that he’d held such a real, deadly weapon without knowing it. 

“I'm glad you're back,” Sam said with a smile, and Rich felt a pang of guilt. Best to let the poor guy know as soon as possible. 

“I'm not-” he began, but Sam touched his shoulder gently. 

“I don't care that you're human,” Sam said, his eyes gentle. He pulled off his flannel shirt and held it for Rich to slip his arms into it. Rich buttoned the shirt up gratefully. It was much chillier here, wherever here was, and his shirt was holey and bloody now. 

“Alright kids, in the car,” Dean barked. Cas was already sitting in the seat behind the driver’s. Sam climbed into the passenger seat and Rich got in behind him. 

“Cas, you have to help me,” he said in a low voice. “There's something-” 

“I was rendered human once. It was an extremely difficult adjustment, but I promise that I will help you, Gabriel.” Cas patted his arm kindly. 

“We all will help,” Sam added. “Whatever you need, Gabriel.” 

“No, you don't understand,” Rich sighed. “I'm not Gabriel.” 

“I get that it feels like that,” Dean said as he guided the car out of the parking lot in a spray of gravel. “But you'll man up and deal just like Cas did.” 

“No,” Rich said more forcefully, running his hand through his hair. “Something went wrong in your spell. I played Gabriel on TV. I'm an actor. My name is Rich.” 

“Not this crap again!” Dean exclaimed. “At least this one has a normal name.” 

“What?” Sam gasped, turning in his seat. Jeez, the poor guy looked like he'd been slapped. “But…” he glanced hopelessly from Rich to Cas. 

“I'm so sorry,” Rich said gently. “I was in my front yard when there was an earthquake, and then it was dark, and then you all…” 

Castiel was frowning. “Something must've corrupted the spell, something that accessed parallel worlds at the same time. That would explain why I felt your Grace flare up and then disappear. I mean, Gabriel's Grace. He must've been thrust into your place.” 

Rich’s eyes widened. “You think he's at my house?” Bad enough to have Jaci freaked out that he was missing, but the thought of a lookalike turning up in his place- a lookalike whose personality Rich knew all too well- was absolutely terrifying. 

“Hope you lock your candy cupboard,” Sam said with a little smile, hope lighting his eyes once again. 

“And your Pay-Per-View account,” Dean added. “So what's the scoop, Cas? How do we swap everyone back where they belong? Saints’ bones and all that crap again?” 

“Possibly,” Castiel mused. “We'll research it when we get back till the bunker, but I can't see why not.” 

“Yeah, we also need to figure out why an abandoned church was full of demons,” Sam added. “Find out if Crowley’s up to something. That many of them in one place…” 

“Maybe it’s a demon retreat. You know, get away from the hustle and bustle of all the possessing and killing people,” Dean offered, grinning at his unamused brother. 

Rich sat back against the seat, feeling more and more panicky the longer the drive went on. Now that there was no immediate danger, he was able to think about everything. Suddenly, the ache to see his family again was overwhelming. He teared up, thinking how close he’d been to getting that excited flurry of welcome home hugs, only to end up in such an unbelievable situation. And who knew what they were dealing with there. 

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked. “I suppose it must be very overwhelming.” 

“You can say that again,” Rich said with a snort. “I just- I’m worried about my family, you know? You think he’s… the real Gabriel is…” 

“Gabriel is clever, and at full power. I’m sure he’ll quickly realize the situation and lay low so as not to frighten your family and friends,” Castiel assured him. 

“So… wife and kids, huh?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah. Yeah, livin’ the dream life,” Rich said, twisting his ring around. 

“We’ll get you back to it,” Sam promised. 

“Well I dunno about you guys, but I am _starving_ ,” Dean announced, turning into the parking lot of a roadside diner. 

They settled into a booth, Dean and Cas pressed together on one side, Sam and Rich on the other side. 

“So… tell us about this TV show,” Dean said after the waitress had taken their orders. “How’s everyone carrying on since… you know, all that crap that happened when we were there?” 

“So sorry about Misha, and Erik, and all the others who died,” Sam said. “That must’ve been awful.” 

Rich frowned. “Misha’s not dead. Or Erik… that was an episode, guys. There was an episode of the show where Sam and Dean got switched into a world where the show was real. But it wasn’t really quite like our real world. Misha’s fine, Jared and Jensen are besties, none of that crap really happened.” 

“Hah, I knew there’s no way you’d be married to some hot actress who played Ruby,” Dean snorted, flicking his straw paper at Sam. 

“Oh, Jared’s married to fake Ruby, alright,” Rich said. Sam choked on his soda. “Yeah, Gen’s a real sweetheart. We’ve had some good times hanging out. Remind me to tell you the train story later.” 

“But is there anything you can tell us about the storyline of the show that might help us out?” Sam asked. 

“It is likely to be as different to our lives as Rich’s world is to that which you visited,” Castiel said. “There are so many parallel worlds. It’s difficult to comprehend, even for a celestial being. Your brains, of course, could never-” 

“Oh, can it,” Dean interrupted with a longsuffering look at the angel. Rich couldn’t be sure, but he thought Dean squeezed Cas’s knee under the table. Cas rolled his eyes and sat quietly. 

Rich frowned. Was it right to interfere, to give them information that they should not have? He thought for a moment. “Well, Dean, the Mark of Cain… you got rid of that, right?” 

“Yep, long gone,” he agreed. “But in the process, we sort of, uh, now there’s-” 

“The Darkness,” Rich said. “She’s stalking you around, pretty lady in a black evening gown?” 

Dean stiffened, and Cas frowned down into his coffee. “Yeah? What do you know about her?” 

“That’s about it, actually,” Rich said. “So I guess that where you are is where I know about. 

“If our lives are current to your show,” Sam began carefully. “You would know if you, as the actor are back, meaning that you should know if Gabriel is going to be alright?” 

Rich sighed heavily “I haven’t been approached with a script, no. I’m sorry. It’s still possible. They’re just starting that process for the second half of the season now.” 

Sam was quiet, and picked at his food for the rest of the meal. Rich wanted to say something comforting, but had no idea where to begin. Dean seemed oblivious, shoveling a cheeseburger and blueberry pie into his mouth, plus helping himself to most of the food in front of Castiel as well. 

As Dean paid for the meal, Rich went to the men’s room before leaving. He stared at his face in the mirror and splashed cold water onto it, hoping to wake up from this bad acid trip of a day. But when he walked out of the bathroom, he was still in a crummy diner, Baby parked in the parking lot, Sam and Dean Winchester kicking the tires, and the angel Castiel stuffing quarters into the claw machine. 

The claw failed to pick up anything, and sighing in frustration, Cas stuffed two more quarter in. 

“Can’t you just… you know...shazam it?” Rich said. 

“That would be cheating,” Castiel said as he guided the joystick again. This time, the claw grazed the bear but couldn’t quite pick it up. 

“Let me,” said Rich. Cas backed away, throwing up his hands in defeat, and Rich popped the last two quarters in. He quickly steered to the green teddy bear and dropped the claw. It closed around it, and he held his breath as it popped back into place and dropped the bear into the slot. Castiel looked delighted as he retrieved the toy from the little door. 

“Thank you,” he said as he tucked it into his coat pocket. 

They had a few more hours of driving. Rich told them a little more about himself, and they answered the questions he had about them. He was careful to avoid certain subjects, such as anything that had been the plot point of a season’s worth of argument between them. 

It was pretty late when they got to the bunker. Walking the halls of the bunker, a cohesive building rather than a series of sets, was mindboggling for Rich. Sam gave him a brief tour and led him to a guest room. 

“I’m right across the hall if you need anything,” he said as he plopped pillows and blankets onto the bed. 

“Thanks, Sam. You’ve been very kind.” Sam just smiled sadly and shut the door as he left. 

Rich sat on the edge of the bed and kicked his shoes off. He peeled off his jeans and socks, pulled off the bloody shirts, and laid down in his boxers, pulling the thick blanket over himself. Another night of a lonely bed, but it wasn’t supposed to be this way and he twisted his ring, the metal smooth beneath his fingers. At last he turned off the light and went to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to let you know, I'm heading out on a two week vacation in a few days, with Gishwhes on top of that, and I have no idea what my writing schedule will be like. It may be a long wait after this!


	3. Chapter 3

“For a celestial being who only tastes molecules, you sure do make a fine cup of coffee,” Rich commented. He was sitting at a table in the library across from Cas, sipping on the morning brew the angel had provided him. 

“Thank you,” Castiel said. He was staring at the laptop screen, clicking frequently, as well as glancing through a book and writing notes. They could hear the sound of Dean singing faintly in the distance as he flipped pancakes in the kitchen. Sam had not yet emerged from his slumber. 

“So, what’s the verdict? Do you think you can get me back home soon?” Rich picked up the piece of paper with a list of spell ingredients scrawled on it and squinted at it. He’d left his glasses in the other universe, which was a bit more inconvenient than forgetting them in the green room. 

“Assuming we can acquire a suitable holy relic, yes. I’m afraid that part may prove to be difficult. Sam and Dean, as you probably know, are talented criminals, but these things do tend to be well guarded.” 

Rich nodded. “Well, is there anything I can do? To help with this, or anything?” 

“You could go engage Dean in conversation so he’ll stop singing. It’s very distracting.” 

Rich chuckled and slapped the table as he stood up. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

Dean’s iPod was playing a Doors song, the tinny little speakers of the cheap dock filling the echoey bunker kitchen with music. Dean himself was supplying additional vocals. He didn’t have a half bad voice, though he was not the strong singer that Jensen was, which was a very strange difference, Rich thought. Still, Dean was putting a lot of heart into it, and Rich almost felt guilty about interrupting him. But Dean looked up when he walked into the room and broke off with a smile. 

“Mornin’. Hope you like pancakes.” Dean gestured to the finished stack on the plate next to him. “There’s bacon under the paper towel, too.” 

“Yum,” said Rich enthusiastically, fixing himself a plate. “Thanks, man.” 

“Don’t mention it. Kinda kidnapped you accidentally, least we could do is feed you.” 

Rich ate slowly, savoring the meal. Dean really was quite a good cook. The pancakes were fluffy and the bacon crisp, and a guy couldn’t ask for much more than that. “Does Cas eat?” Rich asked. “Or does he just drink coffee?” 

“He eats when he’s bored sometimes, I guess. Not often. Coffee, yeah, dude’s a coffee fiend.” Dean grinned down into the pan, some private thought passing through his head no doubt. 

“So, uh… how are things between you guys now?” Rich asked, dipping his last bit of bacon into the syrup. He almost regretted asking as soon as the words were passed his lips, and when Dean turned around and stared at him wild-eyed, he did regret it. “Sorry! Sorry, I-” 

“Look, I dunno what is public knowledge in your TV show, but please, please don’t breathe a word to Sam. I haven’t- I don’t know how…” Dean trailed off, leaning against the counter, his face twisted in worry. 

“Oh. _Oh, _” Rich replied. “No, I won’t mention it in front of him. Your secret is safe with me,” he assured. “But I really think that Sam would be fine. With… whatever…”__

__“I just can’t, yet,” Dean broke in. He inhaled deeply and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know why, I mean, you’re right.” He blushed a little. “Feelin’ a little self-conscious here. Have you seen… you know, stuff?”_ _

__“Wha- OH! No no no, there’s been no on-screen Destiel hanky-panky, if that’s what you’re asking.” Rich paused. “I mean, I _have_ seen you getting busy with many ladies over the years.” _ _

__“Not helping,” said Dean, the blush across his cheeks deepening._ _

__“Sorry,” said Rich. “I’ll shut up now.” He speared a forkful of pancakes and popped them into his mouth. Dean turned back to the griddle, replenishing the stack on the plate._ _

__Sam stumbled into the kitchen a few minutes later, rubbing his eyes. He poured a cup of coffee and dropped onto the seat across from Rich. He mumbled a good morning and sipped at his coffee, wincing when Dean slammed a plate of breakfast in front of him._ _

__“Eat up, Sammy. We’ve got a felony to commit.” Dean crammed a slice of bacon into his mouth and poured syrup on his own pancakes. Only feeding himself after Sam had been fed, Rich noticed. It was the sort of decision he’d make if he was directing, which felt very weird to think about._ _

__“Guys, I’m sorry, I hate causing you this trouble. I wish there was some way I could help you get the thing.”_ _

__“It’s what we do,” Sam said. “We caused something to go awry, and we need to right it. Put you back in your life, and- and Gabriel…” He looked down into his coffee cup and cleared his throat._ _

__Castiel walked into the kitchen with the laptop balanced on his arm. “You should read this,” he said, placing the laptop on the table so the other three could read a news story about a string of grisly murders committed by people who’d suddenly started behaving erratically and out of character, according to their loved ones. They’d then all disappeared and the police had not been able to track any of them._ _

__“That’s like ten miles from that church,” Sam said. “You think it’s demon signs?”_ _

__“Certainly seems likely,” Cas said. “Perhaps other demons have been and are still using that church as a headquarters.”_ _

__“Think we should go back there and have another look around?” Sam wondered._ _

__“Can’t hurt,” said Dean. “But since we’re already kinda on something… maybe me and Cas’ll go do that, you go get the bone. Hah,” Dean added, laughing at his own joke. Sam pretended not to notice._ _

__“Got any leads on that, Cas?” Sam asked. “Any promising relics?”_ _

__“There is a toe bone of Saint Malachi touring North America. It is arriving in a church in Topeka tomorrow morning. This would probably be a perfect opportunity,” Cas said, tabbing over to another window. Sam scanned through the page quickly._ _

__“Great, should be easy enough. You in, Rich? You said you wished you could help.”_ _

__Rich’s eyes widened. “Uhhh… I mean, I really don’t want to get arrested, but on the other hand, I need to get home. Soooo... yeah, I guess I’ll do it.”_ _

__An hour later, they’d packed and headed out in their separate directions. Sam and Rich were using an antique pickup truck from the bunker’s collection. It was in great condition, though a bit bouncy and loud, and Sam seemed pensive and quiet, so Rich kept his thoughts to himself and watched the scenery. He wondered if his disappearance had been noticed yet. He wondered if there really was a God in this universe and if he prayed, which one he’d get. He figured it couldn’t hurt and prayed anyway, that his disappearance wasn’t causing his loved ones any distress._ _

__It was only a short drive to Topeka, and they checked into the motel nearest the church, just a block away. Rich sat on the foot of one of the beds, thumbing through the phone book idly. Sam pulled up the church’s website on the laptop._ _

__“This looks good; there were some people complaining about the heating system on the message board last Sunday. We’ll say we’re there to fix that. First thing in the morning.”_ _

__“Good plan. No one notices the repairmen, right?” Rich said. “Hey, um, so. I hate to ask it, but… I can’t exactly borrow your clothes, and…”_ _

__“Oh! No problem, man. We’ll hit the thrift store and find you something.”_ _

__An hour later, they left a thrift shop with several bags. In addition to clothing for Rich, they’d gotten a toolbox with some basic tools, several books, and a stack of vinyl records that Sam thought Dean would appreciate._ _

__“Do you actually know anything about fixing a heating system?” Rich asked as he picked the tags off the corduroy jacket and heavy workmans trousers. “I mean, I can tinker a little but there’s not much I’d do myself before I called a professional.”_ _

__Sam shrugged. “We don’t have to really fix it. We just have to make it look like we’re doing something. Think of it as an acting job.”_ _

__“Of course. It’s just that I’m thinking of you as my director,” Rich laughed. “Tell me what I’m doing, Sam.”_ _

__Sam chuckled, then stopped as a flash of sadness went across his face. Rich looked at him curiously. “You’re just so much like him sometimes,” Sam explained. “Mostly, you’re not. But sometimes.”_ _

__“I’m sorry. I guess it bleeds over. I can try to be not like him at all,” Rich offered. Sam was quiet for a while, and eventually the talk turned to pizza toppings and soft drink flavors._ _

__They went to the church early the next morning, carrying tools and trying to look confident. As they had suspected, no one really glanced at them as they made their way to the basement and started to poke around in the furnace. They decided that Rich would stay in the basement and disconnect various pieces of the ductwork as Sam went to the rooms and checked the vents in them. That way, he could scope out what was going on where under the guise of determining the layout of the heating system._ _

__Sam nodded to the assortment of priests and deacons as he went through the offices and classroom spaces in the north wing of the church. He took apart vent covers with a screwdriver and looked down the ducts with a flashlight, even though he wasn’t sure whether he was being watched or not. It wouldn’t do to appear suspicious._ _

__And then he went into a small sitting room off the Bishop’s office and there it was, an unassuming wooden box, padlocked shut. That had to be it. They hadn’t yet installed it in the viewing case where the people would come to view and worship it. Sam quickly picked the lock and grabbed the fossilized bit of bone in a napkin, wrapping it quickly and shoving it in his pocket. He replaced it with a small chunk of mulch that he’d picked up in the parking lot of the motel and quickly locked it back up._ _

__Rich was surprised when Sam returned to the basement so soon, but he packed up the tools and got out of there, clueing in that they needed to get out quickly. They were on the road back to Lebanon before Sam showed him the grisly memento._ _

__“This is it, huh? I’m almost home free?” he said. Surely they could do the spell tonight as soon as Dean and Cas returned. He tried not to think about how things were never quite that simple in Supernatural. It had to work._ _

__“Yeah,” Sam said. “Hey, um. If it all goes well and we get you back, and you run into Gabriel… I mean, I don’t know if this will reverse you two, or just send you back, and…” Sam ran his hand through his hair._ _

__“You want me to help him get out? Of course I will. Kind of have a soft spot for the ol’ trickster. Sounds like you do, too,” Rich added with a grin._ _

__Sam smiled, a small wistful smile. “That and… can you tell him that I forgive him? And that I want him to come back? I’m kind of afraid that he might not… might not know that.”_ _

__“Ah. Yeah, I’ll tell him. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I think he knows that, Sam. I think he knows how forgiving you are. And it sounds like you guys had gotten close?” Rich asked. He’d been desperately curious about what their relationship had been ever since this whole crazy incident had started._ _

__“S- sort of,” Sam stuttered. “We didn’t- we weren’t lovers, we never said- he just kissed me once, that’s all. I don’t even know what it meant to him. Maybe I was just hoping… but none of this, um, appears in the show in your world?”_ _

__“Well I’ve never kissed Jared Padalecki,” Rich said. “But, you know, there’s a bit of hinting… flirting, maybe… and the fandom sure as shit thinks so.”_ _

__“Oh, that I know alll about. I’ve read those stories.”_ _

__“Sam! You’ve been reading Sabriel fanfiction!” Rich gasped in mock horror._ _

__“Shut up!” Sam groaned._ _

__“The dirty ones?” Rich couldn’t resist asking. “Sorry. Sorry,” he immediately apologized at the mortified look that crossed Sam’s face._ _

__“But you think we’ll get him back okay?” Sam asked after a silence._ _

__“This is all gonna go fine,” Rich said, with a great deal more confidence than he felt._ _

__*_ _

__Dean pulled the flashlight from the trunk of the Impala and tucked a pistol into his waistband. Castiel trailed behind him, alert and ready to defend. They crept slowly through the back parking lot of the church, dodging fallen branches, and down the stone steps into the cellar. Dean pushed at the heavy wooden door and it gave way easily. He looked back over his shoulder at Cas, leaned in for a quick peck on the lips, then turned and walked into the cellar._ _

__They were in a smallish room that was quite empty, except for a few cardboard boxes of tools against one wall. Bits of crushed coal covered the floor, remnants of its former use as a coal bin for the old furnace in the main room of the cellar. A short door, perhaps five and a half feet, led through to that room._ _

__Dean hunched down and stepped through that door, expecting to see the bodies of the demons they’d slain the day before, but they had all been cleared away. Castiel glanced around the room, then made a beeline for a long wooden table in the corner. Among the stacks of mildewing hymnals, a tray with a chipped tea service, and an air popcorn machine, there was also a confusing electronic device that Cas was suddenly poking at._ _

__“We don’t need a crappy old stereo, Cas,” Dean admonished. “Maybe grab that popcorn thing though.”_ _

__Castiel rolled his eyes. “It’s not a stereo, Dean. Not anymore. Someone has been building a device that could alter reality, with sufficient power.”_ _

__“Yeah, maybe we better unplug that,” Dean said. “Alter reality how? Like, bizarro world traveling?”_ _

__“If this device had been powered up at the time it could very well have caused that,” Cas said gravely, lifting the device from the table. Blood dripped out from beneath it._ _

__“Ew,” Dean said, wrinkling his nose. “Is that how they powered it?”_ _

__“Blood is part of it. Souls are another. All the humans that they possessed and discarded were likely used.”_ _

__“We need to find out what the hell they’re trying to do here,” Dean said. “Why don’t we just hang out until they get home and have a little chat?” Castiel nodded, and together they went to the car to get the spray paint._ _


	4. Chapter 4

The Archangel Gabriel found himself suddenly alive and lying face-up on hot asphalt. His eyes flew open, and he waved his arms in the air at the sudden disorienting rush of existence. He gulped in a deep breath and sat up. 

There was a cracked cellphone next to him on this hot driveway, and he picked it up and poked at the buttons a bit. It did not respond. A suitcase lay near his feet, and he kicked it irritably into the bushes. 

“Well this sucks,” he muttered out loud. He could just remember, a hazy and confusing memory of arguing... with Lucifer? And being stabbed by him? Was this part of that? Had Lucifer simply banished him somewhere strange? He heard the door of the nearby house opening, and quickly scrambled behind the bushes until the people had gotten into the car and left. They seemed harmless enough, but until he knew what was going on, better to avoid everyone. 

Gabriel stood up and peered into the front window of the house. There were lace curtain panels obstructing most of the view, but there seemed to be a very simple living room. A comfortable recliner, sofas, a huge TV. Might as well go have a look around, he thought. He used his Grace to unlock the door, pleased that that was still functioning, and wandered in. 

“Ooh, it smells like breakfast in here,” he said longingly. It seemed like ages since he’d had anything to eat, and he followed the smell to the kitchen and found a pan of homemade cinnamon rolls on the stove, still warm and oozing frosting. “Be still my heart,” the archangel sighed and scooped up the pan. He spotted a wine rack and selected a sweet white wine and carried his treasures to the living room. 

Two hours later, he had eaten the entire pan of cinnamon rolls, drank all but the dregs of the wine, and was watching a wrestling match on TV. The recliner was indeed cozy, and he wondered if he should try sleeping again. It seemed like as good an idea as any, he thought, wiping the frosting out of the pan with his fingers and licking them clean. Or maybe he should go see if whoever had baked this treat had left behind extra frosting. He stood up and tipped the last of the wine into his mouth. 

“Rich, what the hell!” shouted a voice from the doorway. Gabriel turned his head and saw a guy standing there, arms crossed. The guy was scowling at him. 

“I know you!” he said. “You… prophet! You’re that one… oh hell I wasn’t even paying that much attention. But I kinda remember you.” 

“Wow, you are smashed,” the guy said, stepping closer and snatching the bottle out of his hand. Gabriel blinked in surprise. “Your wife called and asked if our flight had been delayed or something, said you never made it home and you aren’t answering your phone.” 

“The phone. Oh yeah, that’s cracked.” Gabriel gestured to the dead device that he’d abandoned on the dining table. 

“Oh shit, that’s a bummer. Hardly an excuse for getting day drunk, though, dude.” Kind blue eyes were peering at him. “Is there something else wrong? You know you can talk to me.” 

“No, no, just… I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 

The man sighed. “Rob. It’s Rob. Come on, let me help you to bed. Let you sleep it off. We are definitely talking about this soon, though, Rich. Let me just text Jaci real quick, I’ll just tell her about the broken phone. I’ll leave out… whatever else is going on with you, Rich.” He had his phone in his hand, swiping a quick text one handed. His forehead was creased with worry. 

“Okay, first of all, I’m not Rich. I don’t know who Rich is. Second of all, you’re not that prophet. Chuck was his name, and come to think of it, I’d feel it if you had any kind of powers…” 

Rob sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t… don’t do this. Come on. I haven’t had any sleep either, and … this is just … no.” He picked up the cake pan, walked to the kitchen, put it in the dishwasher, and dropped the wine bottle into the recycling bin. “Let’s go to Starbucks and get coffee. Then you can tell me all about what’s troubling you and … what are you doing?” 

Gabriel sprinted past Rob and retrieved the empty wine bottle from the recycling bin. He pulled a glass from the rack and tilted the bottle into it. Red wine flowed into the glass. He repeated the motion with another glass, and another, and another, pouring from the empty bottle. 

“You want coffee? Here, coffee!” Gabriel snapped his fingers and handed Rob an iced caramel latte, out of thin air. 

“Uhhh,” said Rob weakly. “I need to… sit…” He had just barely placed the coffee cup on the counter when he fainted onto the floor. 

“Oh, where are my smelling salts,” Gabriel said sarcastically to himself, dropping to sit cross-legged on the floor next to Rob. He scanned him quickly for injury, finding none, and then resigned himself to wait for him to regain consciousness. Curiously, Gabriel fished Rob’s phone out of his pocket and thumbed through it. Among the pictures, surprisingly enough, were pictures of him. Him and this guy, making goofy faces together, drinking beers, standing in an airport looking exhausted. “Well don’t that beat all.” 

“Whoa,” said Rob groggily, eyes fluttering open. “Weird. I thought you were Gabriel.” 

“I _am_ Gabriel,” he said tiredly. “Please stay down there if you’re going to faint again.” 

“Oh shit,” said Rob, sitting up slowly. He stared at the cup of coffee on the counter above him. 

“Well now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, any ideas why I’m suddenly here? In… California, it feels like? And you seem to think I’m some guy named Rich, and you have pics of me in your phone, soooo…” Gabriel spread his hands expressively. 

“Rich is my best friend, and he looks exactly like you, and this is his house. And if you’re Gabriel, and you’re snapping your fingers and conjuring stuff, it’s because you’re the archangel and you’re really real and holy crap do you not even know about the show? There’s- there’s a TV show and you’re in it. Me and Rich are actors in it,” Rob babbled hysterically, tears welling in his eyes. “That’s why you look like him, he played you, and I played Chuck, and. And if you’re here and Rich isn’t I think it means something very very bad.” 

“Well.” Gabriel exclaimed after a moment. “Wrong universe, I presume. Luci is such a dick. This might be even worse than stabbing me.” He stood up and grabbed the wine glasses from the counter and drank them, one after another. “So this TV show about me, maybe that will offer some clues. Shall we Netflix and chill?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

“Uhhh… no, no I don’t think...” Rob said, his eyes widening. “But I’ll sit down and watch the show with you if you think that will help… figure out.” They moved into the living room. Rob took the conjured beverage with him, sipping cautiously, and Gabriel grabbed a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He settled into the recliner once again, and Rob perched uneasily on the couch. 

“How popular am I? Like, magazine covers, private jets, millions of screaming fans?” Gabriel asked excitedly. 

“Not exactly,” Rob snorted, picking up the remote and punching buttons. The television flared to life. 

“What? But I’ve got a show about me!” Gabriel protested. “And a hot wife… at least, I assume- hey, do you have a pic?” 

“Look up at the mantle,” Rob sighed irritably. 

“Oh. _Oh._ Daaaamn,” said Gabriel in awe. 

“Yeah,” Rob agreed. “But the show isn’t about you. Or me. We’re not even on it anymore.” 

“Okay, so who is it about- oh no,” Gabriel said as the title screen loaded and the Winchester brothers’ faces appeared on the screen. 

“Yeah, they’re the stars,” Rob said. “And you’re… um. You’re dead. Lucifer killed you like six years ago and-” 

“Well that explains… some things, I guess,” Gabriel said sadly. He dug into the ice cream with his spoon. “But the Winchesters, they’re okay? They managed to trap him back in the box?” He watched as Rob started up the most recent episode and there was Sam Winchester, nerding out over Lizzie Borden, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Sam looked strong, healthy. He must’ve succeeded in staving off Lucifer, after all. 

“Uh,” Rob said. “Sure, Lucifer got all locked up. And Sam and Dean are out there kicking ass still. And I guess… so you’re not really dead?” 

“I don’t feel dead. Now… ooh, the trick is going to be getting me home, and getting your bud back to here.” 

“Well that should be easy, right? Snap your fingers and poof? And then you send Rich home?” Rob asked hopefully. 

“Not that simple, I’m afraid. Grab your coat and your car keys, we’re going shopping!” Gabriel declared. He jumped up suddenly and sprinted out the door to the driveway, still carrying the ice cream. “I call shotgun!” he yelled excitedly, getting into Rob’s car. Rob just sighed and trudged along after him. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Okay I kind of wanted to hold this and edit again but otoh I kind of really wanted to get it posted now that I finally got it all down, so... here goes. Forgive me, I've done 2 cons, 60 hour workweeks, and got hit with some Real Life Crap since the last chapter.

Dean and Castiel sat behind a stack of boxes, waiting for the demons to return. The devil’s trap had been carefully painted on the ceiling, and a bag next to Dean contained salt and holy water. They had been waiting for hours, and Dean was getting tired and sore from sitting on the floor. “I’m getting too old for this crap,” he muttered, leaning his head on Castiel’s shoulder. 

Castiel rubbed the back of Dean’s neck. “I believe it’s bad form to complain of your age to one who is much older,” he said. Dean just snorted and nuzzled closer, relaxing as Cas’s fingers rubbed the soreness from his neck. He wasn’t sure if it was the angel’s massage talents or a bit of grace, but either way, he wasn’t complaining. 

“It’s nice to hold you like this,” Cas said quietly. He hesitated a moment, then added: “It’s… difficult sometimes, when we have to… not be like this.” 

Dean sighed heavily. “Cas, baby, I can’t yet. I just can’t. Give me time. Or, if this isn’t working for you-” 

“No!” Castiel exclaimed, his grip tightening. “Dean, I would gladly hide in a darkened basement with you for the rest of my existence, if that was what you needed. Don’t misunderstand me. I was just expressing my thoughts on the matter. If you prefer I won’t bring it up again.” 

“No, that’s not... it’s okay. We’ll talk about it if you want to,” Dean said, brushing his hand across Cas’s cheek. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you, Dean,” Cas responded, catching Dean’s hand and kissing it. “And I believe we should get ready. I sense demons getting nearer.” 

Footsteps sounded on the stairs leading from the main chamber of the church. Dean counted about half a dozen pairs of feet, he guessed. He glanced up at the ceiling, hoping the devil’s trap was big enough. They came closer and he could hear that someone in the group was crying. Crying demons? Crap, they must have hostages. Castiel’s arm was heavy across his chest, holding him back, as they watched two of the figures shove four others forward towards the multiverse stereo contraption. Double crap, they were going nowhere near the huge devil’s trap in the center of the room. One of the demons, a blonde lady, grabbed the hand of the person who had been sobbing - a girl in her teens or early twenties - and shoved it into the machine. The girl started crying harder, loudly, and blood leaked out around the sides. Dean pushed against Cas’s arm, but Cas leapt forward, his blade suddenly in hand. 

“Let her go,” he commanded. The demon looked at the angel in shock, then grinned and shoved the girl’s hand into the machine farther. It lit up and made a sickening squealing sound. The demon seemed to be challenging Castiel, calling his bluff. But Dean knew that Cas wasn’t bluffing, and he wasn’t going to let this girl die. While Cas had their attention, Dean snuck up behind the other demon, a short balding man, and jabbed the point of the demon knife into its shoulder. It screamed in pain and Dean took advantage of its temporary distress to shove it into the center of the room. 

“A Winchester,” said the lady demon, intrigued. “Well that should be good fuel, yes sir. Take this yowling brat, then. Take her and give me the Winchester. His soul is … mmm,” the demon sighed, licking its lips. It pulled the girl’s mangled hand free from the machine and held her tight against its chest. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was sobbing more quietly now, and more desperately. 

“What do you want with souls?” Cas demanded. 

“Oh come on angel, you know as well as we do what a delicious source of power they are. Takes a lotta juice, lotta juice to-” 

“Shut _up_ ,” shouted the demon guy. “Idiot.” 

“Oh whatever. Just give me the pretty Winchester boy with the soul so bright and I’ll let all of these pathetic humans go,” the demon snarled. 

“Is that right?” Dean said, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 

“Yes. Scout’s honor. All I need is you to power up my- never you mind.” It looked confused at Dean’s smile. 

“Cause it seems to me like you might be outnumbered,” Dean said with a shrug as one of the human captives, a teenaged boy, shoved the demon into the center of the room. The girl took this opportunity to wrench herself free, and she and the boy tumbled toward the side of the room together, landing near the feet of their two friends, who stood frozen in shock. 

“Nice,” Dean said appreciatively at the kid, while circling around the demons. Cas was tucking away his blade already and they both moved toward the humans. Cas helped the girl up, with a little flow of grace to heal the damage the machine had done to her. Dean gave the boy a hand up and slapped him on the shoulder. “Get yourselves and your friends out of here, okay?” he said, and watched as the teens fled from the church. At last, he turned back to stare at the demons. 

“So, fill me in, guys. What’s with the Radio Shack home project over here?” Dean asked, strolling across the room. “Juicing up with human souls, that’s one hell of a ham radio.” 

“You’d need a lot too if you were trying to-” the demon woman began, but the demon guy quickly slapped his hand over his friend’s mouth. 

“She means shut up; we don’t talk to hunters. Or angels,” he added, glaring at Castiel. 

“Oh, we’re gonna need some incentive, are we? Cas, you wanna be bad cop or should I do it?” 

“Dean, you said I was bad-” 

“You were bad cop last time, guess it’s my turn.” He picked up a bottle from the duffel bag and tossed a stream of holy water over the demons. Steam hissed out and they screamed. 

“Answer the question,” he barked. The demons looked at each other and then burst out laughing. 

“Or what, you’re gonna splash me again?” the woman taunted. Dean lunged into the circle and stabbed her in the gut, withdrawing before the other demon could grab him. 

“I might, but I’m leaning more toward carving you up piece by piece.” 

“We know you’re tampering with the multiverse,” Castiel said. The three of them, the demons and Dean, turned to stare at the angel. “The effects have already been noticed.” 

“Then why ask us if you know what we’re doing?” the demon man asked in bewilderment. 

“Dean was bored,” Castiel shrugged. 

“You’re not going to stop us from finding our paradise!” the demon woman burst out angrily, still clutching her bleeding stomach. “We’ll find our father; I know he’s out there somewhere, victorious. We were never meant to be stuck in this… this horrible universe where angels roam freely and demons can barely catch a break!” she sobbed. 

“You’re trying to break through the universes to find a better one where… what, Lucifer? Where Lucifer won?” Dean said incredulously. “Un fucking believable. Demons! You’re-” as he spoke, he was pacing around, and he only realized when the demon man grabbed both of his arms and pinned them that he’d wandered into the circle. Castiel leapt into action and dove at them, but even as he was a flying blur of trenchcoat rushing toward them, the demon woman had wrenched the knife from Dean’s hand and flung it into the trap on the ceiling, while the demon man threw Dean bodily across the room, crashing him into the device. Castiel grabbed an armful of demon too late, landing on the floor with a crash as both demons smoked out of their hosts. 

“Dean!” Castiel shouted, scrambling to where Dean lay. The table had tipped over and the device had fallen onto him and smashed. Blood trickled from several places on his scalp and his arm was bent at a very wrong angle. Mercifully, he had been knocked unconscious, and Castiel quickly healed him before he could wake up in pain. 

When Dean stirred moments later, he felt Cas’s soft hand cupping his cheek gently. His face was pressed against Cas’s thigh, and he sighed in relief. “They gone?” he asked. 

“I’m afraid so. And the device… well, they broke it with your head. Still, I think we should take the pieces with us back to the bunker and study it further. I have never seen such a thing and I would like to know how they were able to build this.” 

Dean packed the broken pieces into a cardboard box. They soon had the contraption and their supplies loaded into the Impala and were on their way back home. 

Dean’s phone rang a short time into the drive. “Sammy,” Dean said into the phone as he steered with one hand. Cas watched him warily. “How’d it go? You get boned?” 

“Yeah, that’s definitely funny the seventh time. Yes, we’re back with the relic,” Sam said. He set his phone on the table and switched it to speaker. 

“Good job. Hey, uh, so we found some more demons, and we think we know what happened. Kinda. Probably definitely related. Cas found some crazy TARDIS box or something. Seems that the Lucifer-loyal demons are tryna yank him out of another dimension or whatever.” Cas was shaking his head gently at Dean, but Dean quelled him with a pat to the knee, leaving no hands on the wheel briefly. Cas scowled and grabbed Dean’s hand, placing it back on the steering wheel. 

“That’s… good? So maybe we can just... flip a switch?” Sam said hopefully. 

“Yeaaaaah I kind of broke it. So we’ll just have to stick with doing the spell. See ya in a few hours.” 

Sam hung up the phone on the table and sighed. Rich glanced up from the book he was squinting into. 

“Should we get things ready?” he asked. Sam nodded, and Rich followed him around the bunker as he gathered the spell supplies, mostly out of curiosity. He ran his hands across dusty books and boxes of mysterious items while Sam rounded up the things he needed. When at last they had laid everything out on the large library table, they stood side by side looking at it for a moment. Rich turned to Sam and laid a hand on his forearm. 

“Hey, so…I just wanted you to know what an honor it’s been to meet you. You’re a great guy, Sam. And I hope that everything works out well for you, in every way,” Rich said. 

Sam stared at him, speechless for a moment. His face then lit up with a smile and he leaned down and hugged Rich. Rich tightened his arms around him, squeezing him, overwhelmed with a desire to protect Sam from further suffering. 

“Thank you,” Sam choked out as he let go. “That means a lot to me. That- that you could know so much about everything I’ve done and still think so.” He ran his hand through his hair and glanced at the floor. 

“I mean it, Sam. You’re a good man. Smart, brave, selfless. You’re a hero,” Rich said. 

A blush crept across Sam’s cheeks and he huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Well I- I mean- I think you’re great, too, Rich. I’m glad I got to meet you, but I hope this whole thing hasn’t messed anything up for you in your life.” 

“Me too. I really hope Gabriel’s good at being me.” Rich sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of homesickness, coupled with a restlessness. He hoped that Dean and Cas would be back soon and they could begin. “Maybe we should make some coffee?” he suggested. 

They were sipping on the fresh coffee when Dean and Castiel returned, boots thudding up the stairs from the garage. Sam and Rich walked into the library room as Dean set down a cardboard box full of electronic parts on the map table. 

“We ready to get this party started?” Dean asked, strolling into the library and looking over the spell laid out there. 

“It looks ready,” Castiel said. He picked up the relic and studied it carefully. “It’s authentic,” he confirmed. 

“I’m ready when you are,” Rich said. 

“Let’s go,” said Sam, pouring the jar of blood into the bowl. Dean lit the candles as Cas dropped the other ingredients into the bowl. Sam picked up the book and began to read the incantation in clear, perfect Latin. Rich stood there uncomfortably, hands clasped in front of him. He thought about home, hoping that thinking about it would contribute to the success of the spell. He wondered if he ought to click his heels together too, but pushed the thought out of his head. As Sam neared the end of the spell, Rich took a deep breath and shut his eyes. Everything was quiet and still, and after a moment he opened them again. Dean and Castiel stared at him from across the table, and Sam stood at his side, looking down hopefully. 

“Gabriel?” he asked softly. 

“No. No, I’m sorry, I… I’m still here,” Rich said. Sam set the book down on the table and turned away as a shadow crossed his face. Castiel frowned and picked things up from the table, one by one. 

“Everything is perfect, I don’t understand,” he growled in frustration. 

“Maybe that’s got something to do with it?” Dean said, nudging Cas’s shoulder. He pointed into the map room, and they all turned to look. The box containing the broken device was making a rapid clacking noise, and a pinkish light shone from within. The box shook slightly, creeping slowly across the table like an off-balance washing machine. The four men glanced at each other and went out to investigate. Castiel reached it first and grabbed the box just before it could pitch itself off the table. He peered down into it, his blue eyes wide. 

“Well this is certainly a fucked up situation,” he said. 


	6. Chapter 6

Rob’s phone began to ring as they were driving, and he pulled the car over to the curb and pulled it out of his pocket. “It’s Jaci,” he said with alarm. 

“Is that my wife?” Gabriel asked. 

“She is not _your_ wife; she is _Rich’s_ wife,” Rob answered indignantly. 

“Well… you better answer it,” Gabriel replied. 

“Yeah, yeah. Hello? Hey what’s - yeah, he’s, um, he’s with me. I guess. We’re going to the phone store…?” Rob said uncertainly, his eyes darting around. “Um well I guess -- she wants to talk to Rich,” he hissed, his hand over the phone. Gabriel shrugged and grabbed the phone out of Rob’s hand before Rob could react. 

“Hey there beautiful wife,” Gabriel said, while Rob cringed. “Yeah it’s kind of a funny story. I dropped it in the driveway. - No, no, I guess that isn’t that funny. - I was not tweeting! - Yes I was looking where I was going, it’s just that - Oh, nevermind. Nevermind, um - Oh, tonight? Uh -” Gabriel’s eyes widened. “That sounds great. I would love to-” He glanced over and noticed that Rob was glaring daggers at him. “It’s just that Rob is - Rob is really upset and I might have to spend some time listening to his problems? But I will definitely take a raincheck on - Oh crap I have to go, Rob is crying!” He hung up the phone and handed it back. Rob was still glaring angrily. 

“She sounds nice,” Gabriel said. 

“If you touch my buddy’s wife, I will find a way to hurt you,” Rob said. 

“Whoa, whoa, easy there. I’m not gonna do that. No matter how much she begs me for it.” 

“Ew,” Rob replied, wrinkling his nose. 

“Let’s go buy a telephone!” Gabriel exclaimed, slapping the dashboard. Rob heaved a sigh and began to drive again. 

Several hours later, Gabriel had played with every device in the phone store, flirted with every employee and most of the customers, short circuited a FitBit, and disappeared for a disturbing amount of time with the store manager, a curvy brunette with a Harry Potter tattoo on her wrist and TARDIS socks peeking out from beneath her khaki pants. They returned at the end of her lunch break, holding milkshakes and giggling. 

“What, did you… ‘Casa Erotica’ her?” Rob asked disdainfully under his breath. Gabriel stared at him blankly for a moment, then snorted. 

“No, I did not. I listened to her problems and I made her laugh. She needed it, believe me.” His eyes darkened for a moment as he stared off out the window. Rob felt a prickle down his spine as he remembered the vengeance Gabriel had been known to dish out on the show, the scary and violent things he’d done to people. 

“Did someone hurt her? Did you Trickster them?” Rob whispered. 

“Best if I don’t tell you,” Gabriel muttered, picking up the latest model iPhone, along with a screen protector and a case printed in pink flamingoes. “You’ve convinced me, I’m going with this one,” he said to the girl, dumping them on the counter in front of her. 

“That seems like a lot,” Rob said. 

“You’re right, my friend. Let’s throw in the FitBit and an iPad - wait, how many kids do I have? Three? Three of those really good iPads over there. And, you know, sturdy cases for them. I’ll bet kids are really tough on something like this.” 

“Just put it all on your account, Mr Speight?” she asked brightly, tucking all the items into the bag. 

“Of course, of course. And, hey-” he lowered his voice and leaned in closer, “you use that commission to get out of there, okay?” 

“I will. I promise,” she said. “I was so close already and… just… thank you.” There were tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, but she was smiling. Gabriel reached out and touched the top of her head briefly, then turned and left with his bags. Rob stood there in awe for a moment, then scrambled to catch up to him. 

“Dude. That was amazing. I mean, Rich is going to flip his shit when he gets the bill, but other than that, that was a pretty cool thing,” Rob gushed as they climbed into the car. 

“Mm,” Gabriel said. He snapped his fingers and the screen protector and phone case were neatly on the new iPhone. “Do they have funnel cakes around here? I could really go for a funnel cake.” 

“I have no idea where we can find a funnel cake,” Rob said. “Shouldn’t we be… I don’t know, trying to find… magic shops or something? 

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t think it’s real here. It feels wrong. _I_ feel wrong. I’m not recharging like I should, and there is nothing, not a thing, that should be able to cut me off from the Host. Well, Dad, but… yeah, so I’m guessing that you don’t really have Heaven or angels or anything here.” He poked at the buttons on the car stereo, flipping the station to Spanish hip-hop. 

“So what do we do?” Rob asked desperately. 

“Wait for the Winchesters to fix things on their end,” Gabriel sighed. 

“And you are so sure they’ll come through?” 

“Sam will come through,” he said. “Eventually. He’s had that freaking feather for years. Makes me wonder if he-” Gabriel shook his head. 

Rob glanced over at him, but said nothing. They drove on in silence and soon Rob was turning the car into a driveway. 

“Where are we? Do these people have funnel cake?” 

“This is my house, and no, I do not,” Rob said. “I’m going to pack a bag, I’m going to call my wife, and you and I are going on a road trip to try to minimize the damage to Rich’s personal life until things can get sorted. Sound good?” 

“They’re just going to think we’re sleeping together,” Gabriel muttered, following Rob into the house. 

“You’ve been reading too much fanfiction,” Rob called over his shoulder. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I BET YOU THOUGHT I WAS LOST IN ANOTHER DIMENSION OR SOMETHING. 
> 
> No, seriously, I cannot thank you enough for all the comments and love. This has truly given me the oomph to pick this up and keep going. Love you all!

The floor around the map table was covered with electronic parts. Tinier parts, screws and washers, were lined up carefully on the table itself. Castiel was still disassembling pieces, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his shirtsleeves rolled up, his tie off and his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He was muttering under his breath as he extracted tiny screws holding two metal plates together. 

Sam was in a chair at the table with a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels and was cleaning all the parts with his long nimble fingers, meticulously removing the blood and other residue. Dean was hunched over the worktable in the corner with the soldering iron, trying to fuse jagged pieces of metal back together. Rich leaned against the doorway and tried not to cry. 

“I still don’t get it,” Dean grumbled, shaking another burnt finger in the air and glaring at the soldering iron. “If it’s broken, destroyed, no longer functioning, pining for the fjords, then why is it affecting anything anymore? Shouldn’t everything it did be canceled?” 

Castiel shook his head. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. The microlocal universe position reversal that it caused is still in effect and will remain so until the device can be powered back up and then, only then, can we switch it. It’s not that the device was maintaining the change. It’s that it was switched, and will remain permanently so unless deliberately changed back.” 

“Won’t we need souls to turn it on?” Rich asked. “And blood and all that awfulness?” 

“We’ll find another way,” Sam said firmly. “There has to be something.” 

Rich glanced around the room, then wandered towards the kitchen. Maybe he could help out by keeping everyone fed and caffeinated, and sneak in a private cry while he was at it. He was starting to think that he’d never see his family or friends again. With that cheerful thought, he started to rummage through the huge industrial refrigerator. The Winchesters kept the groceries pretty well stocked, and pretty soon a big pot of chili was simmering. Rich had washed the knives and cutting boards and was searching out ingredients for cornbread when Sam walked in. 

“Smells great in here,” Sam commented. He pulled a beer from the fridge and leaned against the wall. 

“Figured I’d try to be useful,” Rich said, as he located a package of cornmeal and pulled it off the shelf. 

“Well it’s very appreciated. I don’t think I could deal with another night of takeout,” Sam chuckled. “Are you making cornbread too?” he asked with interest. 

“Yeah, it’s my mom’s secret recipe, so I might have to ask you to avert your eyes,” Rich said, grinning. “My mom, she… this is one of the first things she ever taught me to cook when I was a kid.” He stared down into the bowl sadly. 

“I’m sorry. I have no idea how hard this must be for you. I don’t even remember my mom, so…” he trailed away awkwardly, wiping condensation from the bottle. “We will do this, Rich. I promise. We will reverse this thing and send you back.” 

Rich glanced up at him. Sam’s eyes were soft and kind with concern. He had the feeling that Sam knew that he’d been despairing, knew that he’d come to the kitchen to cry as much as to cook. Rich set down the things in his hands and gathered Sam in a hug, relishing the safe feeling he got from the hunter. Sam seemed surprised at first, but returned the hug fiercely. 

“Sammy! C’mon I need more screws!” Dean’s voice bellowed. 

Sam pulled away, patting Rich on the back. “I should get back to work. If you’re… okay...” 

“Yeah, I feel much better now,” Rich said. “I’ll get back to whipping up some amazing grub and let you do your thing.” He waved Sam out of the kitchen and went back to measuring ingredients. It was true, something about hugging Sam made him feel that it was all going to be okay. 

Dinner was almost prepared when he had another visitor to the kitchen, this time Castiel. He washed his hands in the sink and stood next to the stove, peering curiously into the pot. 

“We’ve made quite a lot of progress, and Dean is intrigued by what you’re preparing out here,” Castiel said. 

“Good timing, because things are just about ready,” Rich said, pulling the pan of cornbread from the oven and setting it on a waiting towel on the table. “Go ahead and round up the boys.” 

The strain on the Winchesters’ faces melted away as they entered the kitchen and sat down to the meal. Dean dug in with enthusiasm, complimenting the cooking loudly over a mouthful of food. Castiel nibbled delicately at small portions, though he seemed far more interested in watching Dean with fond amusement. Sam surprised him by devouring two large bowls with cornbread crumbled on the top. He praised Rich’s cooking, though his thoughts seemed far away. 

“So, we’ve almost got that thing back together,” Dean said as he scraped the last spoonful from his bowl. “What’s next, Cas?” 

“Finding an alternate source of power,” Cas sighed. “This isn’t going to be easy. Few things rival a human soul.” 

“Well… does it need that much power?” Sam mused. “I mean, it was built to let a whole ton of demons cross over, right? Like, multiple times in multiple universes probably, since they were hunting for something where Lucifer won. Maybe just to switch one guy and one archangel, it doesn’t need that much.” 

“You want to try running it only partly powered up?” Dean frowned. “What if something even worse happens? What if they get sent somewhere else, or stuck?” He glanced at Rich. “Would you want to take that risk?” 

“I don’t know,” Rich said, his dinner suddenly not sitting well in his stomach. “I just…” 

“No, Dean, I believe that this should work. We can power it up with some animal blood and open it just a small amount. Better if Gabriel somehow knew and could lend his Grace to help open the portal. But of course, there’s no way to send a message to him.” 

“Maybe once we start, he’ll sense it and know what to do?” Sam said hopefully. Dean snorted, but cut off his commentary at a glare from Castiel. 

“It’s probably our best shot,” Castiel sighed, standing up from the table. “I’ll go visit the slaughterhouse and get what we need.” 

“Keys are on the bedside table,” Dean said, picking at the cornbread. “Put some gas in her while you’re out.” 

“Of course, Dean,” he replied before slipping out the door. 

“Let’s get back to work!” Dean exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Get this guy back home by morning, and get Sammy his bae back.” 

Sam sighed as he followed Dean to the library, Rich following the two brothers at a distance. “He’s not my…” 

“You’re in looooove,” Dean called over his shoulder. 

“Yeah I am,” Sam admitted. “But all I have is... a vague hope.” 

Dean dropped into the chair at the worktable and eyed his brother, his expression suddenly serious. “Yeah… well hang onto that, because… I think he has feelings for you too, Sam. He’d be nuts not to love you back, okay? Angels are... complicated and hard to read, but… sometimes you think maybe they don’t really… feel that way, but… then you find out that they do, and-” 

“Dean,” Sam interrupted softly, but Dean waved a hand to silence him. 

“Sam, I’m just tryna tell you… I think the guy likes you, and… you know, don’t be afraid to talk to me about it, because… because I get it, okay?” 

Understanding dawned across Sam’s face and he gasped. “Dean, do you mean-” 

“That’s all I’m saying right now, Sam,” Dean said firmly, bending over his work again. “Now clean those bolts.” 


	8. Chapter 8

“I can’t believe you actually found funnel cake,” Rob sighed. He sat at a picnic table, sipping a soda and scowling at the archangel that looked just like his best friend. Gabriel sat across from him, digging into a messy, sugary funnel cake with his fingers. All around them, excited crowds milled around the street fair. Loud music blared from the rides, and carnies shouted at passersby, entreating them to win a goldfish or test their strength. 

“It’s amazing,” Gabriel mumbled through a mouthful of food. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then wiped his fingers on his pants. It was so different from Rich’s habits that Rob felt like he might be sick. 

He tugged his baseball cap further down on his forehead. Gabriel needed to finish his funnel cake and then they could continue towards the cabin at the state park that Rob had booked. “I can’t snap up something like this. I never get the grease right.” He glanced at the table in front of Rob. “Aren’t you eating? Go, get yourself a hot dog or something.” 

“Oh, no, I can’t. The sodium…” Rob said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m fine, really.” 

“A burger or pizza or something? Come on. I have it on good authority that humans can’t live by Diet Doctor Pepper alone.” 

“Okay, I’ll go grab a burger. Just… don’t… don’t get into any trouble.” Gabriel gave him a wide-eyed innocent look. Rob stood up, still uneasy, and walked toward a food vendor. Maybe he’d feel better if he ate. 

Rob returned ten minutes later to find Gabriel still sitting at the picnic table, empty paper plate in front of him. Three girls sat crowded around him, chatting animatedly. 

“Oh, no,” Rob sighed. 

“...and ohmygod, I loved you in Jericho too… like, how many apocalypses have you been through now?” the girl to his left was saying. Gabriel was holding a pen and scribbling something in a notebook. 

“Too many,” he answered. The girls giggled. 

“You need to do a zombie apocalypse, though,” said the girl sitting across from him, pushing her glasses back up on her nose. “That would be fun.” 

“Hey, look, Rob is here too!” exclaimed one of the girls. 

“Rob, can we have your autograph too?” one of the girls asked. “And pics!” Gabriel handed the notebook over to him with a grin, then slid an arm around each of the girls next to him while the third snapped a photo. 

“Sure,” Rob said, putting his burger down. He squinted at the page where Gabriel had scribbled “Your Favorite Archangel” and drawn some hearts, and a smiley face with a halo and wings. Rob flipped to the next page and signed his name carefully. 

Five minutes and twelve photos later, Rob finally managed to hustle Gabriel away from the fans at the street fair and back to his car. “You couldn’t resist the fans, could you,” he seethed. “God, I hope you didn’t do anything that’s going to bite Rich in the ass.” 

“Calm your tits, sweetheart. They came right at me! And I was a perfect gentleman. You’re welcome, by the way. I’m not used to turning down chicks that are all over me like that. No appreciation for the hardship I’m dealing with.” 

Rob made an irritated noise and shook his head. “Let’s just get to the cabin, okay? Peace and quiet, middle of nowhere, no fans to find us.” They drove off toward the highway. 

They made it to the cabin by early evening. Rob tossed his bag into the corner and dropped onto one of the bunks. It was a primitive style log cabin, with four bunks built into the walls, a tiny kitchenette, and a rough wooden table built into the wall. Outside the door was a stone firepit and redwood forests as far as the eye could see. 

“So.. what do we do?” Gabriel asked, sitting on the bunk across from him. He sat cross-legged and started untying and retying his shoes. 

“Relax?” Rob said hopefully. “Enjoy the beautiful scenery?” 

“Laaaaame,” Gabriel scoffed. 

“How about if you suck it up and deal?” Rob snappped. 

“Okay, jeez,” Gabriel said, holding his hands up. “Touchy. Okay, you go ahead and nap or whatever. I’m going to go check out the woods.” 

“Try not to get eaten by a bear,” Rob said. 

“Well there goes my Friday night,” Gabriel called from the front porch. 

Rob laid back on the mattress and closed his eyes. He only meant to nap for a short time, but he woke to full darkness. There was the faint glow of fire through the window, and he ran to the door to look outside. 

There was a little campfire in the firepit outside. Gabriel sat in one of the wooden Adirondack chairs, flipping something in a frying pan. A stack of foil-wrapped baked potatoes sat on the side of the fire. 

“I caught fish,” Gabriel said proudly, brandishing a spatula. “There was this stream just full of them.” 

“You don’t even have a fishing license,” Rob said. 

“I have an awesome license,” Gabriel retorted. “It says, ‘I’m Gabriel and I’m awesome, so suck it.’ Come on, man, let’s go eat!” 

“I give up,” Rob said. He followed Gabriel into the cabin. He was certain the table had been empty when he walked out the door a moment ago, but it was now set with nice china, lit candles, and a bottle of wine. 

“Nice touch,” Rob complimented. Gabriel shrugged and scooped fried fish onto their plates, and sat down. He frowned, snapped, and there were dishes of butter, sour cream, dried chives, steamed broccoli, tartar sauce, and malt vinegar, as well as a can of spray cheese. 

“Is that good? Not sure what all you might need,” Gabriel gestured at the spread of condiments, watching Rob anxiously. 

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks, this looks delicious.” Rob sprinkled vinegar on the fish and brought a bite to his mouth. It was hot, crisply fried, and perfectly seasoned. He made a noise of appreciation and continued eating, adding butter and broccoli and chives to his baked potato, and trying not to make a face as Gabriel covered his in a mountain of spray cheese. He couldn’t hold back a snort when Gabriel snapped up maple syrup to dip his fish in, though. “Are you pregnant?” he asked with a laugh. 

“Not yet,” Gabriel replied with a flirty wink. 

“Oh my god,” Rob muttered, picking up his wineglass and taking a hearty sip. 

“You’re supposed to say that later.” 

“Okay, no, I, just, I get that it’s your thing, but,” Rob sighed and rubbed his temples. “This is just-” 

“Sorry. Sorry, I’ll stop flirting,” Gabriel said, his mood shifting instantly. Rob blinked. He hadn’t quite expected the archangel to be so understanding. “Look, I’m trying to be a better person. Entity. Whatever. And, um, I appreciate the reality checks. For what it’s worth.” He moved toward the stove as he spoke, lifting the frying pan to scoop more fish onto their plates. He had just turned to set the pan back down when it clattered to the floor with a thud. Rob dropped the bottle of vinegar in shock and stared at the empty kitchenette. Gabriel had disappeared. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter, my friends!

The demons’ universe-hopping machine had been cleaned, repaired and reassembled. The three men and the angel sat around the map table staring at it with tired eyes. 

“Well, are we ready?” Dean asked at last. 

“Ready as I’m getting,” Rich sighed. “I mean, I trust you guys, but…” 

“I know,” Sam said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’s scary. But you’re brave; you can do this. For your family and the people who love you.” 

“So what’s the first step, Cas? We dump that cow blood in?” Dean asked, clearly getting antsy. 

“No,” said Cas. “First we have to attune the machine for the unique signature of Richard and Gabriel. Sam, is there another feather?” 

“Sorry,” Sam said with a grimace. “I have nothing else left of him.” 

“There’s the Casa Erotica DVD,” Dean suggested. “That’s pretty damn unique.” 

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, Dean, I think it has to be like, physical. Like… like DNA and stuff.” 

“Yeah that just has your DNA all over it,” Dean snickered. 

“Dude, really?” Sam exclaimed, leveling an unamused look at Dean. 

Castiel glared between the two brothers. “What I was trying to say is that, failing something else from Gabriel, we need something from Richard instead.” He reached over and quickly yanked a few hairs from Rich’s head. Rich yelped and clutched his scalp, more from the shock than the pain. 

Cas carefully laid the hairs in a compartment of the machine and closed the door, then pushed the “on” button. Whirring noises came from it, and the lights on the top began to light up, one after the other, red and yellow and blue. 

“This isn’t going to be as smooth a ride as last time,” Castiel cautioned. He began to unscrew the jar lid. Carefully, he dumped the blood into a round port in the top of the machine. He pulled the saintly relic from his pocket and dropped it in next, and then began chanting in Latin. 

“I just want you guys to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done. For me, and for the world. Thank you. It’s been an honor to meet you all,” Rich said. He reached for Dean’s hand and shook it first, then Sam’s. 

“Good luck,” Sam said hoarsely, pulling Rich into a hug. When he let go a moment later, they both had tears in their eyes. 

“It’s time,” said Cas urgently, grabbing Rich’s hand and sticking it in the machine. Rich turned away from the Winchesters and stared into the rapidly blinking lights. They were increasing in speed and soon all he could see was the light spots in front of his eyes, and then the room was gone. 

Everything around him felt like twisting, spinning, forces pulling at him. It was like what he imagined the inside of a tornado was like, but no wind, only pressure, some strange sort of gravity swirling around him. Then suddenly the movement stopped, and he was just floating there. He moved his feet frantically, but there was nothing to stand on, nothing to touch. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to open his eyes, but he did. He almost screamed when he saw his own face. 

“Gabriel?” he asked. 

“What the hell is going on?” Gabriel snapped. “Are you this Richard guy?” 

“Yes, I- there was this device, demons built it to go between the worlds, but it broke when it got us two switched around when the Winchesters tried to bring you back from wherever you’ve been, and Cas tried to fix it but I guess there wasn’t enough cow’s blood to get us through,” he babbled quickly. The archangel stared back at him blankly. 

“Cow’s blood, really Cas? That’s like going vegan for spellwork. Ugh. Alright, listen. I’m going to try to push you through with my Grace. Just… click your heels together and think of home, okay?” Gabriel grabbed Rich by the shoulders and spun him around, concentrating carefully on lining him up just so. Everything around them in every direction looked like formless gray sea and Rich had no idea what it was that Gabriel was trying so precisely to find. When the archangel was finally satisfied, he shoved against Rich’s chest with both hands. 

Rich flew backwards, passing through the void with a POP. He felt himself spinning and flying once again, being pulled at by the forces around him. Just when he was starting to wonder if he’d be stuck in this for eternity, he found himself on his hands and knees on a rough wooden floor, which he promptly vomited on. 

“Okay, easy there,” said a soothing voice from above him, and someone was patting his shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay. Um, let me… here, have some water.” As Rich sat up, an open water bottle was thrust into his hands. He squeezed it and brought it to his lips, swishing and spitting into a plastic bag that was being held out for him. Finally, he took a deep drink, sitting back heavily and leaning against a table leg. He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of a trembling hand. 

“Where am I?” he croaked out. His throat felt like fire, probably from vomiting up a heaping bowl of chili and cornbread. 

“The cabin, remember? We came up here to lay low and keep you from, uh, getting into any confusing situations for anyone.” 

“Robbie?” Rich said, his eyes finally focusing on the face in front of him. Blue eyes peered back at him worriedly. 

“Are you actually _Rich_?” Rob asked, a tendril of hope creeping into his voice. 

“Yeah, yeah it’s me. Gabriel pushed me back through the… whatever. I mean, there was a spell and Winchesters and Cas and… bones and blood… hoooooly crap did that really happen?” His golden eyes were wide and another wave of panic washed over him. 

“I’m pretty sure it did,” Rob said, sitting on the floor next to him and putting a comforting arm around his shoulders. “I’ve been hanging out with Gabriel. He… oh my god it was so weird. He’s… something else, we- we didn’t want to freak out anyone else, so we made up a cover story and came up here to hide out. I’ll fill you in later. I’m just so, so glad you’re back, man.” Rob hugged him tightly. 

Eventually, they settled into sleeping bags on the lower bunks, both too exhausted physically and mentally to do anything else. The next morning, they sat down over breakfast and compared notes about what had gone on in both worlds. Rich agreed that it could have been much, much worse. After breakfast, they packed up and checked out of the campground and drove back toward the city to tackle trying to make explanations for the sudden vacation. 

Rich sent a thankful prayer up to Gabriel and to Castiel. He didn’t think they could hear him, on the other side of that terrifying void between his world and theirs, but he wished he could let them know that he’d made it safely back to his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to have the machine play "Hooked on a Feeling" when it started up, just for a bit of random wtfness, but I decided that maybe there was already enough absurdity going on here.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screeches* I DID IT! GO ME!

Gabriel stumbled backwards, thrown off balance with the effort of pushing Rich through the portal. He caught himself and took a deep breath, assessing the situation. He still felt pretty weak, weaker still in this in-between place, and the effort of ensuring the passage for the human had taken a lot out of him. He had enough left to get through. Maybe. 

He tucked his wings in close, crouched, and prepared to jump into just the right space in the void to find his way home. He thought about Castiel and the Winchester brothers to try to guide himself toward their location. Okay, fine, he briefly thought about the other two before centering his thoughts on the way Sam Winchester smiled, the way he ran his fingers through his gorgeous, gorgeous hair, and the way he looked in those tight blue jeans. Then he thought about Sam’s eyes, so full of kindness and intelligence and humor. “I’ll see those eyes again,” he promised himself, and leapt. 

The bunker had become eerily quiet after Rich disappeared in a flash of light. The machine stopped whirring. The Winchester brothers and Castiel stood there staring at the empty spot on the floor where Rich had stood just a moment ago. 

“Come on, come on,” Dean muttered, tapping anxiously on the side of the table as he stared intensely. 

Cas frowned and did something to the buttons and knobs on the device, but nothing happened. “That was all the power it had. It’s- it’s off.” 

Sam leaned against the table. His face was grim. The minutes ticked by, and Dean stepped closer to Sam and patted him on the shoulder awkwardly. 

“We’ll just get more blood. Turn it back on-” Dean began, but Cas interrupted him. 

“It won’t work, Dean. With Richard gone, and the feather gone, we have no connection-” 

“Shhh!” Sam exclaimed suddenly, his head snapping up. A high-pitched whining, just barely perceptible, was slowly growing in volume. A breeze blew through the room, rustling papers and ruffling Sam’s hair. The noise and the wind increased steadily, and there was a flash of light and a crash like thunder. The bunker shook, and the three men tumbled to the floor. Another crash, this one of smashing plastic and metal, and parts of the doomed machine skidded all over the floor. 

When he could move again, Sam scrambled up to his feet and staggered toward the table. He touched the face of the man lying stunned on the tabletop. Golden eyes flicked to the side, but his expression was dazed. 

“Sam…” he whispered. He drew in a shaky breath which ended in a pained gasp. He tried to sit up, but just managed to roll onto his side, propped on his elbow, still inching towards Sam. 

“Easy, easy,” Sam whispered, holding his arm steadyingly. “You’re okay; we’ve got you. The spell… it… maybe we can try again… we’ll rebuild the…” he looked over at the smashed machinery on the floor beside the table. “We’ll figure it out.” 

“I found you,” he croaked out, reaching up a trembling arm to brush Sam’s hair back from his face. “Sweet Father, I found you.” 

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “G-Gabriel?” he asked, his voice cracking. 

He nodded. “It’s me. I sent that exceedingly gorgeous human back to his world, and then I jumped toward you.” 

Sam made a noise between a chuckle and a sob. “I’m glad he’s safe, too.” 

Gabriel sat up, with Sam still helping steady him. “It’s good to be back. No Host in that world. My Grace was running low.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Filling back up now.” 

“It’s good to see you, Gabriel,” Cas said. His face crinkled into a wide smile. 

“Thanks for the boost, Cassie. That was some powerful spellwork there.” He stretched and rolled his shoulders until they popped. Castiel beamed at the praise. 

Dean nodded to Gabriel, then looked at Sam. Their eyes met for a long moment, then Dean moved over and started picking up pieces of broken machinery. “Cas, help me get this junk put away before someone trips over it.” 

“Yes, of course,” Cas agreed with an exaggerated wink. He also gathered up an armful of pieces and followed Dean down the hallway toward the storage rooms. 

“So,” said Sam. 

“So…?” Gabriel replied, confusion in his voice. 

Sam took a deep breath. “Look, we’ve all been through a lot, so I’m not going to be coy. I liked you, a long time ago. When you died, I mourned for you. When I found out there was hope to revive you… I decided that I’d do anything to just have you be alive again, but I couldn’t help but hope that also-” his words were cut off abruptly by Gabriel leaning forward, cupping his cheeks,and bringing their lips together. Gabriel’s lips were soft and warm, and he kissed with quick, confident motions, his lips sliding across Sam’s over and over again. He pulled back and they gazed at each other, golden eyes meeting hazel. 

“Yeah, I think that sounds good, kiddo. How about we start with you, me, cuddling in front of some mindless TV, and popcorn that never goes empty? Catch up on the last… how long has it been, exactly?” 

“Um… six years?” 

“Jeez!” Gabriel shook his head. “I mean, I knew… at least, I hoped- that you’d figure out how to get me back eventually. Didn’t think it’d take that long.” 

“Look, it’s been a really busy few years, okay? And, you know, you could have put some instructions about that in the DVD as well. I mean, you had enough time to…” 

Gabriel snickered. “Watched the whole thing, did you?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

“Shut up,” Sam replied, blushing. “What did you expect?” 

“Did you like it?” 

Sam shook his head. “I really don’t think I should answer that. But, maybe…” he leaned in close to Gabriel again, just close enough to touch their foreheads together. “...maybe eventually you’ll find out what I like.” Sam shifted his head and kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss. Gabriel made a noise of interest as the kiss deepened. 

When Dean and Cas cautiously wandered back into the library, they found the two sitting side by side, watching something on Sam’s laptop, though they were talking animatedly louder than the movie. Sam had an arm draped around Gabriel’s shoulders, and there was an impressive array of snacks laid out on the table. 

“Family movie night?” Dean asked. “If you don’t mind if we crash this party?” 

Sam and Gabriel looked at each other and shrugged. “Sounds great,” Sam said. 

Dean pulled up a chair next to Sam and sat in it, then pulled a very surprised Castiel into his lap. 

“Brewskis?” Gabriel offered, snapping his fingers. A fresh round of chilled bottles appeared on the corner of the table nearest Dean and Cas. Beer and snacks were passed around, one movie ended and other was selected, and eventually Gabriel ended up curled up in Sam’s lap. Tomorrow, they would discuss the threat that the Darkness posed to the world, and see what information Gabriel might be able to provide about how they should proceed, but for tonight, they would steal a little time from the endless fight to save the world to appreciate the family they had. 

** Epilogue **

“Rich! Rich, you should see the script I just got!” Rob screeched into the phone. 

Rich shifted the phone to his other ear and went back to stirring the pot of pasta on the stove. “Yeah, what is it? Superhero? Bank robber? Diarrhea medicine commercial?” 

“No, it’s Supernatural, they want me back. And you won’t believe what they’ve done with Chuck.” 

“Septum piercing?” Rich guessed. 

“No, jeez, listen. I’m God,” Rob said. “Chuck is. Chuck is God, the God, the Big Guy.” 

“No shit!” Rich said. 

“And Rich… you’d better check your email.” 

“I’m cooking pasta!” 

“Just do it, trust me.” Rich sighed and went into the den and flipped the computer screen on. 

“Oh yeah, yeah. I got one too.” He scrolled through the pages quickly. “Well I guess they’re not going to show how I got back. Good, I’d hate to see how they explain- Oh, holy crap! Well, I guess that went according to plan.” 

“What? What is it?” Rob asked excitedly. 

“Looks like I get to find out what flavor of Chapstick Jared wears.” 


End file.
